


disintegration / foundation

by Celesma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Dysphoria, M/M, Oral Sex, Religious Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celesma/pseuds/Celesma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is prayer and confession and communion all at once, a confused profusion of liturgies borne out in the cries torn from Sam's throat, in the marks left between his shoulder blades and behind his knees and inside his thighs, in the pleasures that Castiel gives but never takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	disintegration / foundation

_Katabole_. The word—related to the Greek verb _kataballo_ , meaning to cast down, destroy, decay, or disintegrate—insinuates itself in Sam's brain like a parasite, sinks into the folds of his gray matter, as Castiel's lips wrap around his head and suck, as his tongue sweeps up his length in a hot wet swipe and his hands disappear between his legs. It is prayer and confession and communion all at once, a confused profusion of liturgies borne out in the cries torn from Sam's throat, in the marks left between his shoulder blades and behind his knees and inside his thighs, in the pleasures that Castiel gives but never takes.  
  
This is the angel, he thinks, who called him an abomination and broke his wall and sent him running right into Lucifer’s arms. He still cannot believe this is something they _do_.  
  
It feels good. It shouldn't feel so good.

Maybe that is why the word, gleaned from multiple studies of the New Testament in its original language long before the Apocalypse reared its ugly head, descends upon him with such piercing clarity when Castiel takes him apart like this. Is the only way he can feel okay about this, when his body already is a broken, hastily reconstructed thing.  
  
Sometimes, Sam thinks, it would be good; so _right_ , to just have this incomplete shell of a body and soul distilled into its barest elements—to slide like an elixir past the barrier of those soft plush lips, down that long beautiful throat, and to know one perfect, purifying moment of heat as he burns into sweet oblivion in the solar core of the angel's Grace—  
  
( _Katabole_ also forms the base for the biological descriptor _catabolic_ , or the process in metabolism by which complex substances are broken down into simpler compounds. It's appropriate.)  
  
Castiel comes forward to face him on the bed, his dark tousled hair gleaming as with a halo of light, his eyes convicting and concerned. His lips every bit as inviting as when the words _I do not wish to cause you pain any longer, Sam_ had first fallen from them weeks ago (and Sam had made a mad, pathetic dash to take him up on that offer, desperate to feel _something_ from _someone_ that wasn't unrelenting pain, even someone who surely could not love him back), only now red and wet and slick with Sam. His tongue emerges to clear them and Sam wonders if he knows it, too; wonders if he knows how much Sam longs to not exist and is only too eager to bear out that image in these hard-won moments of silence and wordless lovemaking. Castiel has always been so generous with him, so ruthlessly tender and knowledgeable of what will make him come, come _hard_ , and yet—  
  
"You foolish child," Castiel tells him, and in an instant Sam knows nothing but wet heat and the taste of himself upon his tongue, pearls of clear liquid dripping freely from the angel's mouth as he moves to kiss him, beautiful white teeth sinking into his lips like bare toes into soft earth. "Do you still not understand? The world intended you for evil, yet God always intended you for good. _You are good_ , Sam. I would not see a single molecule subtracted from your body, nor one vice or virtue from your soul. I did not save you so you could wish yourself out of existence."  
  
_Katabole_ has two meanings.  
  
The better-known meaning is one of destruction. The other is of foundation.  
  
_(Exempli gratia: God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world.)_  
  
And Castiel _has_ saved him. Castiel has taken on his pain, fought for him, died for him—  
  
"I have always loved you."  
  
_Chosen_ him.  
  
Sam moans with anguished pleasure, and as he rides Castiel's lips and tongue to release he loses himself in the even sweeter fantasy that what had once been made to break him down could perhaps someday build him back up again, piece by tremulous piece.


End file.
